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Monday, November 25, 2013

It's been a month. Life has given me a lot of poop to deal with, but the last month has been the one to break me over all the rest. I never wanted to experience anything like this, then again, who wants to experience the painful things?

I still cry. Mostly silently, as nobody cares what's going on. I shouldn't put it that way. There are some who care. They care deeply. They know the pain and they are there for those random vents that make absolutely no sense. I found people I didn't know would care, did. Even if they never went through anything like this, they let me talk and cry.

Then there is the rest of people, they either don't know what to say, or don't like anything negative in their lives and thus avoid you like you have a disease they can catch. There are those who think you should get over this within a day or two. I mean, I only just found out, and we didn't want any more right?

Wrong. A child is a blessing, no matter how unexpected. I was just getting over the shock of being pregnant and then getting really excited when the rug was ripped out from under me.

And there are those who ask almost daily, "how are you doing?" I never disliked that question so much in my life. I would avoid phone calls, emails, pm messages, knowing what question I'd have to hear or see before anything else only made me nauseous. I came to understand their meaning was well, I also learned that most just ask to make themselves feel better, that they showed they cared. But their quick changing of the subject only showed me they didn't want the real answer. They wanted me to put it all in a box and move on with life as if nothing happened. The people I found most comfort in were those who didn't ask how I was doing every time they spoke to me. Instead, they just let me know they are there for me. In return I messaged the weirdest thoughts or just repeat that life isn't fair and they'd respond in some manner. But I don't have to answer the "how are you doing?" question. I can only speak for myself, but my guess at this point is that common responses are:

"I have no bloody clue how I'm doing."

"I just lost my baby, how the hell do you think I am doing?"

"I had to convince myself that my children really need me. So I dragged my ass out of bed so my kids continue to think their lives are awesome sauce."

"I didn't sleep last night because I'm still dreaming some mad man has my baby and won't give him back. But he's giving everyone else their babies."

"There are some days I cannot go on Facebook because seeing everyone else's baby bumps, ultra sounds, and newborns in my newsfeed is like a freshly heated branding iron on my busted heart."

Some days I feel fine and am doing well and yet people tell me I look or sound sad. In reality, how I'm doing, is keeping me so busy I have no time to worry about how I'm not doing. Because if I think about how I'm doing, I will crumble into a pile of human flesh and waterworks. The other moments of some days, those responses up top are a lot of what I'm feeling.

So this is now my new normal. I cry a lot and mostly alone. I laugh really long and hard with my children here with me. I find myself smiling at lot more and at peace emotionally with things I never used to be. I spend more time with my children and working extra hard to find a balance between my wants and being a present mom and wife. The busy nature of this balance, while it has me exhausted most days, leaves me feeling more put together than I am. I have been making sure I get healthy feel good things in, like regular exercise and can most days leave out the emotional eating. I message a good friend with the most angry thoughts when I hit a sad moment. I also message the broken nature of my heart that hurts with such a fire my whole body aches. I message how I still desperately want my baby back. I live with guilt and blame. I pray every night that God will take care of Emmitt until I get there. To let him know I love him. This brings me peace. Knowing that I'll get to see him one day. I take more moments out just to hug my husband or hold his hand. I don't rush my kids away when they want a hug or just cuddle. (unless I'm cooking. don't want to burn the house down.) I'm learning to work through my emotions. Learning how I feel when frustrated, sad, okay, etc. where in the past I didn't work on anything but anger. As sad as I am, I spend less time depressed and more time happier than I once was. And I still have anxiety and still freeze at the thought of leaving my house or looking for work.

I'm discovering it won't all change over night. I don't know if this portion of my heart that hold's Emmitt's name will ever heal even just a little. I just know this is my new normal and it's not all tears and heartache, but it's okay to have moments that are.

Wednesday, November 6, 2013

Yeah, Sully from Monsters Inc. is cute. But this is his scary face. Everything on Google images was either too cute, or quite frankly too scary for what I wanted my readers to see. (I'm thinking of the kids people).

Living with my diagnosis of Borderline Personality Disorder blows chunks. It doesn't get easier, or go away with age, as one pshychologist tried to tell me. What a lofty idea though. It would be Heaven if it did. It doesn't get tolerable. You just learn tools to get through it. Over the years I've used bad and ineffective ones. From cutting to overdosing on pills. Fun, fun. *eyeroll* I have also learned and used more effective ones in the last eight or nine years. Doing stuff even though you feel like crap. I'm gonna feel like poop either way, might as well get something done while I'm at it. Going running. Oh my gosh I miss this. I really screwed up my leg. Lesson learned. If you are going to run, make sure you are strength training! Very important. Ugh shin splints. To writing, and anything that makes me feel what I think normal should feel like. (sounds like a bad thought now, since I've got it written down and all. Realizing I have nothing normal in my life to base what normal feels like on.)

But this monster, that's what I think everyone sees. Over the last nine years I have been dealing with some heavy crap from my past so I can move on. I've pretty much dealt with all of it. I knew dealing with my intense feelings was the "last frontier" so to speak. Since the anti-depressants I was on stopped working, there was no better time. And then, the unthinkable happened. What the heck?! I don't want to deal with this and the loss of someone. The loss only helps to make those intense emotions that more intense. I'm so not ready to deal with any of this. Apparently God thinks I am. I have this to say to God, "Do you NOT see the monster that is lying in wait inside me to bring havoc to all those around? That one that wants to destroy me and the life I fought so hard to build? Do you not understand the chaos, the depths of pain you are sending me to?"

I honestly hear God laughing at me. Chiding me and telling me I need to "Let Go, and Let God". Well God, I'm a control freak and you just threw all my control and plans out the window. I'm not about to let you or anyone tell me what to do. And I'm definitely not about to let go of anything. Even if I don't have anything left to hold on to. I will find something. Anything.

I'm as stubborn as they come.

God and I are currently embroiled in this struggle. Okay, He's not struggling. I am. I'm not ready to give up though. I do plead a lot. a. lot.

One thing that is coming up though, besides the fact that I need to grieve and not put a time limit on it. (apparently, in all my logic, two weeks is more than enough time to get over the loss of my baby.) I'm learning not only am I illogical, but so is grief. I hate myself. I knew I hated myself. But I always thought it was because of the disorder, or because of my parents, or because of such and such in my past. I'm sure it's a combination of everything, but doing some reading and there is actually a disorder of self-loathing. WTH?! Who knew?

Maybe that monster up there isn't a monster that is in me that will eat everyone up, including myself. Well, it will if I continue the way I am. But maybe the monster has a name. It wasn't neglect. It wasn't abandonment. It wasn't abuse of any kind. Well, maybe self abuse. I'm thinking this monster is self-loathing.

Recently, I went out to try and feel "normal" again after the loss. I was having a conversation with a group of women and covering everything, we eneded up discussing our jobs. I think about my job like I always do. You got to have a certain amount of crazy in you to do the type of care jobs like I do. The one lady seemed a bit put off by what I said. Of course I wanted to hear her thoughts. She said she didn't agree, and gave her reason. She also said, I was putting myself down, that what I did, didn't make me a superhero like some think of it (I was right about that feeling), but it does take a special kind of person, which wasn't because they were "crazy", but compassionate, etc. That they have a "serving spirit". I could only feel sad and contemplative. I could also only be honest with myself. Why that moment, that person was the one that finally pushed that acknowledgement button that I do put myself down. A. lot. I don't know. Maybe it was the combination of the loss and wanting to move on. Maybe it is just time for me to deal with this part of everything. Who knows. It doesn't really matter, what does matter is I think this lady broke the lock on the door I've been beating my head against for years. I know others have said I put myself down, that I'm really negative, and I've just gotten angry and pushed them off. Many times, ending friendships.

So self-loathing monster, angry Sully. I'm gonna do some more reading, and let's see if I can shrink you and squish you. I'm ready to stop hating everything about myself.

Oh yeah, anyone have a time limit on this? Yeah, I know. Just like my grief there won't be one. Stupid control issues.